2:37 a.m.

toss at the moon

Sitting alone at night makes me tired

But there’s energy for the taking because no one else is there to steal it away

Sap at your reserves and make you pay

Through the nose for something you didn’t really want in the first place

But couldn’t say.

 

I lay awake waiting for the time to come when all last pages fall to the ground like bits of over-soaking algae wafers.

Have I fed my fish today?

Streams of rain run down the glass inside but I know it doesn’t melt with age.

Discovery Channel told me so.

 

Dreams come and go quickly and I’ll admit I hate the word

That says something immaterial can describe something real.

Together they are made for each other but never as one.

It won’t work.

 

Why do the paper airplanes fly?

I wish I had a kite or some other symbol of man’s lost sky to toss at the moon of a lonely night.

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